The Long Road to Karn (Realm of Arkon, Book 5)

by Akella, G.

  "Yes, of course we'll feed him," the head groom nodded quickly, his expression defeated. The poor guy then stared into space, dumbfounded, as Kert and I made for the main building.

  It's fun to live in the Middle Ages when there's magic, I grunted to myself, leading the way.

  A grade A bitch—did I get that right, dear? Jaelitte's soft, unctuous voice sounded in my head.

  That's high praise, I shot back without thinking. I'll have you know that in my past life I've only liked bitches. Remember how many times we drank to you, woman—you should be honored and grateful!

  I'll make a note that you like bitches, husband, the demoness chuckled. Here I was on my best behavior, like a gentle lamb, but apparently you want something else...

  Oh, no, no, no. Nothing else. Please stay exactly as you are, my darling wife.

  I'll consider it, she gave another chuckle.

  Oh, I really didn't like that chuckle of hers...

  Why did you fix wings to the boar? I asked, eager to change the subject. How did you even manage it?

  The two of you share a strong bond on the mental plane. And since I'm not Kirana and don't carry apricots on me, I'd decided to project wings. It was fun to watch your drinking buddies' expressions, the demoness chortled. I also wanted to ask: how do you like your 'other means of relaxation?' Are you feeling good?

  What do you know about men and our choices of recreation? I sniffed, finally walking into the quarters graciously granted by Ar-Iraz.

  Strangely, everything here was in tip-top shape and immaculately clean. I peeked into the bathtub—no, no way Gloom could've fit in there. All is well that ends well, then. The servants must've learned of my desires telepathically, for the table was already set with light snacks and three bottles of sparkling wine alongside a potbellied bottle of cognac. Awesome!

  Kert had changed. His melancholy was gone, his features having grown noticeably sharper, his gaze more penetrating. The tifling had hardly resembled a teddy bear last I saw him, but sitting before me now was a mature, deadly predator—power had that effect on people... His level had grown substantially as well—the lord must've rewarded him generously for his service. In this world, every ruler had a treasury of experience, automatically collected from every subject. I had one as well, though mine didn't have much experience at the moment—a lion's share of it had been used to promote my distinguished troops to tiflings. In this respect, this wasn't the Middle Ages where you could simply tap a soldier on the shoulder with your sword, and bam—you're a knight now! Promoting a centurion to a dar consumed a portion of experience from the aforementioned treasury. And it wasn't some abstract resource, but one clearly listed in the options menu. The numbers were simple enough: each of my demons "paid" twelve percent of their earned XP into the common pot. But seeing that my subjects enjoyed a twenty percent boost to XP earned—thanks to their valiant leader—I doubted that anybody would mind it. In this world, the powers that be all had such an experience treasury. It was a complex system, and I was too lazy to delve into every aspect of it, but the gist of it was that each of my satraps earned five percent from every one of their subjects, temples earned three percent from each worshipper, and the rest went to the general treasury, meaning to me. If I wanted to, I could already boost myself to level 250, but I wasn't going to do that. A ruler could take no more than five percent from the common repository without being hit with penalties, and those penalties were no joke—spending, say, a thousand XP on myself might net me only one hundred. No, I had neither time nor desire to deal with any of that stuff now—my head was too preoccupied with other matters. I'd keep working for my levels the old-fashioned way, thank you very much. Still, this was a clear example of one of the advantages lords had in this world, especially when amassing experience over millennia. And gods, even more so. Enter a level 400 Kert dar Annat, Prince Kert dar Annat! I was genuinely happy for the man. And the level made sense given his new title, which elevated him to the category of a raid boss, on par with the rest of the local princes. I was the sole exception to the rule, sticking out like a sore thumb.

  We settled at the table, and Kert waited sympathetically as I downed nearly two full bottles of the local bubbly, refusing a drink himself. The liquid coursed through my body, delivering ethereal bliss. In my younger days I was no stranger to letting loose and waking up next to a stranger after a wild night, but waking up next a boar at a stables—that was new for me. First time for everything, I suppose. With a chuckle, I clasped a pipe with my teeth, fell back into the armchair, admired the naked succubi lining the walls as I exhaled the smoke, and finally shifted my gaze to Kert, sitting patiently across from me.

  "Feel better?" he inquired, his expression unchanged. "Can we talk now?"

  "Give me a minute," I grunted. "Just one more thing—or I know I'll forget it later."

  The prince gave a shrug, and I got up from the chair, walked over to the wall and pulled on the string.

  Moments later the fair-haired succubus appeared in the doorway. Atta, was it?

  "Yes, master?" she said gingerly, her eyes grounded.

  The girl was clearly terrified, but I didn't give a damn.

  "Call your girlfriends, the ones from that night... Oh, quit shaking! I'm not going to eat you!"

  The girls arrived not two minutes later, just like the first time. Only this time the sparkle was gone from their eyes... Hart! What kind of monster did they take me for?! Fighting down rage burgeoning inside me, I said:

  "I'm leaving tonight, so you needn't be scared. I wanted to thank you for the other night. Here you go," I proffered a pouch containing one hundred gold to each one of them.

  "No, master, we cannot. Ar-Iraz... he forbade us to..." Arimma whispered.

  "This is a present from me personally. Do you wish to offend me by refusing?"

  The girls shook their heads rapidly.

  "Splendid, then! Now off you go!"

  Somehow that magnanimous gesture didn't make me feel better at all. Oh, the hell with them, I thought with spite, returning to the table.

  If you intend to pay me for every night we spend together, keep in mind that I charge much more, and I don't accept gold as payment, the causing voice in my head did little to lift my spirits.

  Ignoring my wife's biting remark, I took a seat across from the prince, who hadn't reacted to the scene in any way, and peered intently into his eyes.

  "I'm ready to talk."

  "Who gets to ask first?" Kert smiled openly, for the first time.

  "Go ahead. I'll give you whatever answers I can."

  My story took about fifteen minutes. Eschewing details, I covered only the major points: recruiting people, slaying the companion of the Twice Cursed God, clearing out the princedom of the undead scourge, capturing the citadel. Annat remained his still and dispassionate self as he listened, but I could see how difficult it was for him at times. You try keeping a straight face when you get dealt a royal flush!

  "You mean to say you killed the Twice Cursed God's companion with a century of farmers?" he thought to clarify.

  "Well, I didn't have a legion at hand," I shrugged, exhaling smoke through clenched teeth.

  "Still. You had determined to fight Nerghall even as you knew defeating him was an impossible task?"

  "Would it have been better to just let the Soul Devourer escape and start ravaging the countryside?" I shot back at the son of Cymon.

  "Remember when I'd asked you about Shaartakh upon your arrival to Nittal? I'd thought then that you must have been aided by one of the gods," Kert sighed. "But now I don't even know what to think. Sata clearly favors you, Dark One."

  If you only knew how right and wrong you are at the same time, I thought to myself, then said out loud:

  "Have you heard about the prophecy, Kert?"

  "Of a Black Demon and the phantom city, two dragons and the path to Pangea?" Annat shook his head. "I never believed in that hogwash..."

  "Keep not believing in it," I chuckled.


  "All right, friend," the prince smiled again. "There are certainly things that are above my pay grade, so I shall follow your advice." He poured himself some cognac, downed his glass in one gulp, and grimaced.

  Damn, I thought with wonder. That certainly had an effect.

  "You mentioned something about two dragons just now. Can you tell me more about them?"

  "Krian, all I knew of these old wives' tales is that two great dragons are supposed to depart from this world thanks to the Black Demon from the prophecy. And that a path shall open to Pangea... I never did like those fables, you know. But you still haven't answered the main question that brought me here: whatever happened in Rualt?"

  I repeated the story recounted to Ar-Iraz.

  "But how? How did you manage to slay the lord?!" The cognac appeared to have made an impact, as Kert was finally displaying some emotion.

  "Uh, it just kind of happened," I grunted. "He wanted my princedom... But it's mine, and I don't intend to submit to anyone. Now, Astarot is no enemy of mine, but if that's why you're here..."

  "Stop right there!" Kert put his hands up, palms open. "Astarot has no need of Craedia with its cursed borders. I'm here on another matter..."

  "What is it, then?" I inquired.

  "Yesterday morning in a battle by Rimina, an Alcattaean legion captured by Zorn attacked Vallan in the rear. We earn our keep, lest you doubt," Kert grinned. "As does Maser Ritter. The rebel prince died within the first few minutes of the battle. And now the lord has nearly three and a half thousand prisoners that, under the law, are to be either executed or sent to the mines. They have families with them—that's another fifteen thousand sentients or so. I had a talk with Master Ritter half an hour before being named the Prince of Zorn in front of all the troops."

  "Would you mind getting to the point?" I made the same face at him as he'd made at me back when I'd turned up in his office to tell him about the collusion.

  Kert must have remembered it, too, and laughed. Pouring himself another glass, he downed it, grimaced again, chased it down with a slice of ham, and was finally back to resembling a normal person.

  "One of Astarot's legions will be stationed in Zorn for the foreseeable future. At least until I've trained my own. As for the prisoners and their families..." he fell back in his chair and folded his arms. "We thought of a certain interesting prince who happened to preserve a whole province for the lord... I told you that Astarot knows the meaning of gratitude, so he decided to meet with this prince and discuss with him their shared fate. And to thank the Elder Demon personally. That is to say, you're expected at his palace in three days, Krian."

  "He wants me to take them?"

  "As I said, these questions are above my pay grade. But feel free to ask him. The security has been notified, and you'll be taken straight to him. Oh, and..." the prince wavered. "My mother wants to speak with you. She really wants you to tell her about father..."

  "Sure thing," I shrugged. "Once we're done talking, I'll use a portal to pay a visit to old friends. I have some business there..."

  "In Lamorna?" the tifling smirked.

  "Aren't you the perceptive one?" I returned his smirk.

  "After Nerghall croaked—and you were the only one capable of that feat—Ritter ordered to dig up everything about you. And so we've learned about a certain Krian character who had appeared in this world a month ago..."

  "You bunch of scoundrels," I snorted. "No privacy whatsoever..."

  "Oh, we're not so bad. Kort has been called up to serve again—into the first legion, like Gerid. Ritter was quite certain that you would visit them. So, you shall go to Nittal together."

  "I'm going to need one more day... A very important day for me. Then I'll come over your estate. We'll go see the lord, and I'll head to Iskhart afterwards."

  "It's a deal," Kert shook my head. Then he paused for a moment, and added. "To be perfectly frank, I can't begin to imagine what sky you fell from. But I sincerely hope that you truly do count me among your friends."

  "I don't have so many friends to joke about that," I smiled. "How's Lady Janam doing, by the way?"

  "Are you asking about her role in all these intrigues?"

  "Suppose that I am..."

  "She's still Astarot's favorite toy, though you'd better avoid bringing her up around him. He knows and understands everything, but she has nothing to fear from him. A slap on the wrist, no more. She's one quarter Elder Succubus—any man possessing such a woman ought to count his lucky stars... It's a sore subject for Astarot, no doubt, but she is his woman, and they're bound by their oath to one another. So, again, don't bring her up unless he does."

  And that's just a quarter-breed, a voice sounded in my head. Are you starting to realize how lucky you are, dear husband, for having a pure-blooded one for a wife?

  Oh, I'm ecstatic, I snorted. Given how much trouble a quarter-breed has caused me, I can't wait to see what a pure-blooded one will come up with...

  Be happy that you have me, Jaelitte chuckled. You'll have more fun with me than you can possibly imagine.

  My imagination is running wild already, I concluded, then said to Kert out loud:

  "Have we discussed everything? Then I need to go. My friend has been waiting..."

  "Where did you even find him?"

  "He was a present from Kirana..."

  "I see," Annat poured himself another full glass, and upended it in one go. "The razorback of the Goddess of Vengeance. I have no words..."

  "He's my razorback now," I clarified.

  "Of course. You know, I'm not even surprised that you took the time out of your busy schedule—between becoming the lightning god's captain and getting lavished with presents by a goddess—to bump off Nerghall and Lord Yllial. Not at all surprised."

  At that moment the room fell dark, the stench of smoke and ash wafting through the air. The landscape on the wall—the one depicting the god lounging under a tree—began to flicker, then its edges began to expand, stopping when the canvas grew to a size roughly six by nine feet. By the time there came a clap, Kert and I were already on our feet, our weapons drawn as we watched the scene that opened up before us.

  A blazing fortress was being attacked by an unseen enemy. To the left was a small temple with a triangular roof, its walls made from black-and-white marble which made it look like a chessboard. Rising from the small portico were six columns mantled with vines and long pink flowers; the triangular pediment featured a well-defined bas-relief; and a neat path paved with black-and-white tiles led to an immaculately tended garden. Some twenty yards behind the temple blazed a three-story stone structure. An old man in black-and-white garments stood next to the terrace, hands folded over his chest as he looked on grimly at the bedlam transpiring around him. Plate-clad warriors rushed past the fence one way; a woman in a green dress went the other, dragging a resisting kid; at least a dozen others kept scrambling aimlessly around the burning building...

  Three people stood by the wrought metal fence of the sanctuary: Vaessa, Kan Shyom and me. I wore an unfamiliar suit of black plate, looking on with a strange aloof expression, the kind you wear when you've already decided on a course of action, and couldn't possibly be dissuaded from it. Standing off to the side, Vaessa was gesturing while explaining something to Lars' former deputy. Just then the invisible operator added sound to the visuals, and a cacophony of noise flooded the room: the panicked screams, the roaring flame, the crashing din of crumbling buildings...

  "It's about to breach the wall!" an invisible voice yelled to my side. "Get the soldiers off the walls, Farat! Fourth century to the gates! Fire faster, you dolts!"

  "It's no use, earl," replied another invisible voice to its commander. "It's as if the beast is made of granite. Seventeen ballista arrows simply glanced off its hide."

  "The eyes! Aim for the eyes!"

  A woman wept loudly nearby as a soldier carried the blackened corpse of a soldier on its back. A ball of flame struck one of the houses, crashing through the
wall and igniting the structure at once, as though it were made of dried reeds and not massive stone. The invisible operator turned the camera right, revealing the full scale of destruction wrought by the attackers. The fortress was entirely consumed by flames, the streets were filled with debris and smoke that the winds struggled to clear out with westward gusts, the pavement was littered with corpses, and over by the well a wounded horse thrashed in agony. The fortress walls were ablaze, melting with some kind of terrible magic. A bunch of soldiers were regrouping by the burning iron gates, about thirty in all, flashes of flame illuminating their tortured, defeated faces.

  The invisible operator turned the camera again, and zoomed in on the three of us while eliminating all foreign sounds.

  Kan Shyom stopped Vaessa with a gesture of the hand, and took a step forward.

  "Prince, this castle has at most ten minutes left. They might stand a chance if the garrison could somehow rebuff these donkeyfaced bastards, but as it is... The beast will breach the wall soon, and that'll be the end of it. Most of the civilians have already fled, and we'd be smart to follow them. I cannot imagine how to put down that monstrosity, and with all due respect to you..."

  "We'll see about that," pushing the knight aside, Vaessa craned her head skyward and spread her arms. Two bone vortexes began to form five yards in front of her.

  "Don't you dare!" I barked at her, interrupting her cast with a mild slap on the wrist. "Are you mad? He will swat them down like flies..."

  "What do you propose, Dark One?" the priestess snarled at me.

  "I know what to do," I gave her a wicked grin. "I've been waiting for this moment a long time. And it is here at last." I looked at the knight-commander. "Kan, take Vaessa and the others, and go. This is an order, soldier! Execute! And you," I turned to Vaessa, "the goddess has bid you to obey me, so I don't want to hear any back talk! Execute!"

  "Prince, Krian, you..." the necromancer's daughter latched onto my arm, trying to stop me.

  "I said, execute!" Breaking free, I stepped forward and drew my sword, which immediately flared with a dazzling white light.